


WPaRG Intermission: Cinnamon Extract

by chelonianmobile, idrilhadhafang, MultiFanGirlWickedPony, Writearoundchic



Series: WPaRG [30]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Kung Fu Panda (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Past Rape/Non-con, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26749105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelonianmobile/pseuds/chelonianmobile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/idrilhadhafang/pseuds/idrilhadhafang, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MultiFanGirlWickedPony/pseuds/MultiFanGirlWickedPony, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writearoundchic/pseuds/Writearoundchic
Summary: Bolin supports Mako with his PTSD.
Series: WPaRG [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665667
Kudos: 14





	WPaRG Intermission: Cinnamon Extract

Mako was eight the first time his mother let him help her in the kitchen using the old gas stove.

“Hot chocolate,” she’d told him, kissing his forehead. “That’s just the thing for nightmares.”

“Moooom,” he’d whined, wiping the place where her lips had been. “Stop it. I’m a big kid now, not a baby.”

“Then you’re old enough to help.” She had dragged a stool over and handed him a wooden spoon. “Here, you stir when I put the milk in. Don’t let it get that skin on the top.”

So he’d stirred it when she poured the milk and got the powder.

“Can I have marshmallows?”

“The big ones? One or two?”

“One.”

She’d gotten the bag and left it on the counter, then reached for something in the spice cabinet above their heads. A little bottle of dark brown liquid. She’d opened the top and poured just a few drops into the pot on the stove. “Now stir,” she’d said.

“What is that stuff?”

“Cinnamon extract. My secret ingredient.” She winked. “Don’t tell your father.”

“I won’t!”

Bolin never got to have these moments. He was so young when their parents died. Sometimes Mako wonders if he remembers either of them at all. This is one topic he can’t force himself to bring up with his baby brother - this and so many other things.

~

The television plays at a normal volume, but it’s the only sound in their apartment. It's been a long day and nothing’s on but the news - and not even the boring kind.

“This just in,” says the reporter lady with the short brown hair, “we’re receiving reports of an escaped inmate. The second one this year.”

Bolin looks over at his brother from the other side of the couch and watches as - as if rendered in slow motion - his face falls. Then the woman on the screen says “Tai Lung Liu” and he genuinely worries that Mako is going to collapse into his chest.

He looks like Korra did four years ago when he’d dropped something a little too heavy on the floor. (“It… it’s nothing, man, don’t worry about it. J-just reminds me of… That’s the way it sounded with… the rod.”) Or like Opal’s brother does whenever Bolin looks at him for a bit too long. (“Save the bedroom eyes for my sister!”) Or like Bolin is sure he does whenever Eska…

Mako doesn’t talk about his time in prison. He did once and only once after the incident with the pills in the bathroom, and even then… he didn’t say much and Bolin isn’t sure he wanted him to anyway. Still, the not-knowing’s left a powerful lot of blank spaces and most of them are filled with eggshells to stumble into.

Here’s one spot filled in, then. Bolin doesn’t have to guess.

The picture that they show on the screen - with the lines of “call now” numbers crawling beneath it - is of a man built like a linebacker with silver hair, still streaked in black and polka-dotted cigarette burns up and down both bare arms.

He’s bigger than his brother - a lot bigger than Eska - it’s more than big enough.

“Mako?” He calls out his name first, not wanting to startle him when his hand comes down to rest on the back of his neck. He spooks anyway, knocking away Bolin’s hand. “Owww…”

“Sorry! Sorry, Bo, I didn’t mean to! I-”

“I know. It’s fine… Um, are you... okay?”

Mako burrows into his muffler. It’s as good as any “no” or shake of the head. He stares at the screen - at Tai Lung’s picture - for a few long minutes, then stands up and goes over to the door. One deadbolt is locked already but now the chain lock is put to use, and the other deadbolt that Bolin never thought it made sense to have.

“Watch the door,” he says. “I’m going for my gun.”

“Whoa. Are you sure that’s-” His big brother is already walking past him. Bolin reaches out and grabs his arm, wincing when he flinches but not feeling bad enough to let him go. “Just hold on a second-”

“We don’t have a second!” Mako snaps. “We need my gun! Now!”

“Would you please calm down?” Bolin’s voice wavers but he doesn’t shake him. He wouldn’t shake him. It’s hard enough to watch Mako panic and keep holding him still. “Look, who is this guy anyway?”

“He’s… I… in prison-”

“No, I got that,” he says quickly. “But is there any reason that you think he’d… come _here_?”

“He could-”

“Does he know where we live? How’s he gonna find this place? I mean… there are security cameras at the door so you can just-”

Mako’s eyes fly to the window and Bolin puts just a little more pressure on his arm, and a little more than that until he turns back.

“He could find us… he could…” Suddenly the elder of the two’s legs seem to give out beneath him and he leans hard. Bolin almost doesn’t catch him and they both end up slumped together on the middle of the living room floor. “He can do anything…” Mako’s voice is hoarse.

Bolin doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t. Mako is his older brother. Killer of monsters. A parent himself in all but name. He doesn’t want to see the strings that make Superman fly. He’d like even less to see him fall when the cables are cut away.

Mom and Dad might have been better at this, but he doesn’t remember much about them - not enough to know what they’d do. He wonders if his father had a temper or if that was his mother. He wonders which one of them knew how to hold someone until they stopped shaking and the tears ran their course.

But all he’d had growing up was his brother and his brother was the strong one so Bolin didn’t have to be.

~

Bolin was eight the first time he saw his brother make something on the stove.

They’d somehow scraped enough blood money together to get a half decent room in a motel that wasn’t infested with roaches for a change. That and real groceries to stock the miniature fridge.

“Bad dream?” Mako had asked him, pulling Bolin up from where he lay shivering in his own twin bed. “Come one, Bo. I know what we can do about that.”

He’d knelt in front of the coffee table, blanket draped around his shoulders, while his brother had puttered around the kitchenette.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.”

After a few moments the smell of chocolate had filled the room and Mako had set a paper cup down in front of him, nursing his own.

Bolin had smiled and taken a big sip, burning his tongue. “Ith good,” he'd garbled. “Really good!”

“As good as Mom’s?”

Bolin didn't remember how his mother made her cocoa, but in the moment it had seemed important to Mako that he say “yes”, so he’d nodded along. “You bet!”

“That’s because of the secret ingredient.”

Mako was always the strong one, but sometimes he let himself be the soft one too. Bolin was always the soft one. Maybe some moments call for that too.

~

“Come on.” The younger of the two stands first and pulls his brother to his feet. “We should… Let’s not hang out on the floor.”

Mako bites the inside of his cheek. Hard. “What are you-”

“Shh! Come on!”

He submits and lets Bolin haul him into the kitchen and shove him backwards into one of the chairs. “What do you-”

“How do you make it?”

“How do I make… what?”

“Hot chocolate. You always said Mom would make it to make us feel better when we were kids… and that’s what you’d do with me.”

“After _nightmares_ ,” Mako snorts. “This isn’t-”

“I know it’s not. I know, I just…” Bolin fumbles and almost drops the pan. “Look, we can’t do anything about that guy, okay? And if I let you at your gun right now, you’re going to shoot the next person that knocks on the door.”

He’s probably right and Mako knows that. He hates feeling helpless though.

“So… what _can_ we do?”

“You can stay there. Keep an eye on the TV if that makes you feel any better. If it doesn’t we can turn it off… okay? I’ll take care of this.”

Mako swallows, but nods. “Okay…” Steam wafts up from the stove and swirls around the room, going up to the light and circling around it like the hands of a dissipating ghost. He watches with a pair of bloodshot eyes.

“You wanna talk about it?” Bolin asks.

“What’s there to say? Shit happens. I got my ass handed to me in pieces and now…” He stares hard at the countertop, like he’s trying to set it on fire with his mind. “You shouldn’t have to worry about this stuff…”

“You shouldn’t either.”

Bolin sets a mug in front of him and Mako lifts it with both his hands. They drink.

“It’s not as good as yours…”

“You mean Mom’s. It’s her recipe.” He smiles at his little brother wryly. “You forgot the special ingredient.”

“Love?” He looks offended. It’s almost funny. “But I do-”

“Not love, genius.” Mako smiles faintly, cuffing him on the ear. “Mom used to mix in cinnamon extract.”

“Oh… I can remake-”

“Don’t,” he shakes his head. “This is great, and you didn’t have to do anything in the first place, you know…”

“I wanted to.” Bolin sinks down beside him. “Did I ever tell you that I’m sorry?”

“Sorry?”

“About…”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not-”

“Don’t say that,” Mako tells him. “It is. You know it is. You know…”

“That’s not true!”

“Yes it is! If I had been a better cop… if I hadn’t…” He looks miserable, and his gaze flicks back at the television screen. “He was one of the ones that they got to and it was my fault for not doing anything when Sato was…” He shudders. “I don’t blame him for hating me.”

“I blame him! Whatever you did isn’t-”

“You’re just a kid, Bolin,” Mako says to him. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

His brother’s face is stony when he stands up and takes the mug from his hands. “I’m going to make this again,” he says. “The right way.”

“Bo…”

“I love you and I know I’m not Mom, but I want to do this like she would have - it _is_ better.” Silence as he pours the milk back. “I bet she wouldn’t have wanted you to talk about yourself that way.”

“You don’t know that…”

“I can guess, can’t I?”

The reporter is back on screen again. “Update,” she begins and he doesn’t hear much after that. Just “Jade Palace” and “Surgery” and the ending… the moment of “Tai Lung Liu is dead.”

It’s been two hours and fifty-six minutes.

Bolin drops the bottle of cinnamon extract into the pot of cocoa. Mako puts his head down on the table and bursts into tears.


End file.
